


Poison In My Head

by thosefuckingangels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 19:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thosefuckingangels/pseuds/thosefuckingangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt from a friend:  "Dean has Alastair locked in his head like Sam has Lucifer in his. He begins to hallucinate his Master being alive and around him."<br/>Set in the end!verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poison In My Head

He literally lost everything; the world is going to shit and all Dean has left is a bottle of whiskey and his weapons. It’s been almost a year since Sam said yes to the devil. The skies are falling down, croats are running around everywhere and spreading their disease, more demons are walking among humans than ever before. And Dean is alone, all alone. Sure, Castiel is there, but slowly the angel is falling into madness - ever since he lost his grace and became human, Castiel just gave up. Dean can understand some way, in the end, what’s the point? There’s no way the world can be fixed, nevermind saved. Yet he still fights, even if he doesn’t know what for anymore.

He’s been searching for the colt for a while now with no success, but he finally captured a demon close to Lucifer’s trusted circle. The son of a bitch just laughs at him, mocking him each time Dean slices into him and refuses to tell him anything. Dean is getting fed up and frustrated and just another sarcastic comment away from stabbing the demon in the face.

_Tsk, tsk, Deano. Getting a little rusty, are we?_

He can hear the voice in his head again, always taunting him and at the same time encouraging him to do better - the hallucination of Alastair became somewhat comforting, the only thing that’s keeping him sane at by this point even.

He looks over his shoulder and shuts his eyes for a moment before turning back to the demon sitting inside the devil’s trap and walks closer with a smirk on his face. “We will see about that.”

One hour later the black eyed bastard gives up all the information he had, and Dean grins above the bloodied, broken and dead host the demon died with. 

_That’s my boy._

Two weeks after that, he’s searching for Crowley - a crossroads demon the other one named to have the colt. He captures one of his little minions who tells him Crowley’s been dead for a long time, Lucifer took care of him personally. Dean can feel Alastair shaking his head, waiting for him to show the pathetic little venom what happens when Dean Winchester hears bad news.

He lets the demon leave alive, so he can spread the word that it’s not the devil they should be scared of.

He can feel Alastair smirking.

Later that night he visits Castiel in his cabin, asking for ideas where he could find more demons to question. When the angel doesn’t seem to be helpful, or coherent even, Dean takes a deep sigh and trying to fight the urge to listen to the voice in his head; _he knows something, Dean, get it out of him, snap his bones, slice his throat open, do it._

Dean leaves, picking up a bottle to drown himself in for the night. He’s just about to pass out when he hears footsteps behind his back so he reaches for his gun and turns around. He lowers it when he sees Alastair approaching him.

“You disobeyed me earlier. Is that what i taught you, hm, boy?” 

“Go fuck yourself. You’re not even real.” Dean shrugs, taking another sip from the bottle. 

His eyes widen as he feels himself being thrown across the room, gasping in both disbelief and fear as Alastair comes closer and closer.

“Mind your tongue with me, pet.” Alastair hisses, grabbing Dean by the collar of his shirt and forces him on his feet. “If you want to keep it.”

The demon smirks, wrapping his other hand around the hunter’s neck and squeezes it tight. “Did you forget your manners, Deano?”

“Y-You’re supposed to be d-dead.” 

Alastair arches an eyebrow, “That’s not what i asked.”

Dean knew he was fucked up, but he didn’t know he was this screwed in the head. It takes to be a very special nutcase to have your freaking hallucinations coming to life. He shuts his eyes, hoping to wake up from this - but the hand around his throat reminds him that Alastair is still there, still waiting for an answer. And when he opens his eyes again, the demon is still smirking at him.

“N-No, i didn’t.” he whispers.

“You didn’t, what?”

“I didn’t, Master.”

The demon loosens his hold around Dean’s neck and nods, “Good boy.”

This is so messed up. Why does he feel so real? Dean actually got quite used to hearing him in his head, sometimes even seeing him, but this is different. Now he can feel him when he leans in and presses a knee between his legs, he can feel his breath on his neck, and when he grinds against his master he can feel his hand yanking his head back by his hair. 

“Did i say you could do that, hm, pet?”

“N-No, Master.”

He used to hate this. Hated the way he had no control over whatever Alastair decided to do with him in Hell, but now it’s different. He needs to be stripped down of power, let himself be controlled by someone else. He’s tired of being a leader, tired of being the one to make decisions and be responsible for other people. He just needs the weight on his shoulders to be lifted, even if just for one night. And the thought of it turns him on more than it should.

“I’m sorry, please, p-please..” he mumbles, not really sure how to finish the sentence.

“What is it that you want, Dean?”

“W-Want you. Please, Master, i need you.”

Maybe he should be ashamed, feel guilty for pleading a demon to have his way with him, but on the other hand he knows Alastair likes to hear him beg. He always did.

Alastair grins before taking a step back and shoving Dean down on his knees, and he doesn’t even think before nuzzling against his groin. He’s reminded of his place immediately when his master’s fingers are digging into his cheeks, forcing him to look up at him.

“Nuh-uh, my pet. I don’t remember giving you permission to do that.” 

“Please Master, may i suck your cock?”

Alastair sighs, brushing his hand against Dean’s cheek and he can’t help but lean into the touch. “Do you think you deserve it?” the demon asks.

“P-Please, i will be good, i promise, i’ll do anything, please -“

“Put your mouth to a better use then.”

Dean doesn’t hesitate to do so, he unzips Alastair’s pants quickly and gives a few firm strokes before taking his cock into his mouth, sucking it eagerly. Soon enough he feels his master’s fingers in his hair again, keeping him in place as Alastair begins to move and thrust into his mouth, fucking into him just as mercilessly as he did in Hell. And Dean loves it - he missed this, missed it more than he realized before.

He loves the way Alastair marks him, leaving bruises all over his body to remind him who he belongs to when he drags him over to the bed and pins him face down, gripping his hips as he settles himself behind Dean and fucks him from behind, pounding into him viciously until Dean is screaming into the sheets and begs for more. He always begs for more - he knows the second he stops begging, Alastair will stop. He learned that way too well back then.

When it’s over, Dean sinks into the mattress and looks over his shoulder one last time to see Alastair smirking behind him then shuts his eyes.

The next morning he wakes up, he goes out hunting alone.

One month later he captures Meg. She tells him where the colt is exactly. Dean takes great pleasure in killing the bitch, but before he does so, makes sure she squeals like a pig. When she falls lifeless on the floor, he can feel Alastair patting his shoulder.

“That’s my boy.”


End file.
